


Whiskey On The Rocks

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Inappropriate Use of Ice, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Quidditch Star Cormac McLaggen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 15:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Hermione watches Cormac clinch the Quidditch World Cup Final space for Ireland and then they celebrate.





	Whiskey On The Rocks

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Hermione’s Hideaway fest at Hermione’s Haven on Facebook. I was given Cormac, Dublin, and Ice as prompts. And, well, I make no apology for this. XD

It was the coldest day in Dublin in over a century. Spain versus Ireland at the Quidditch World Qualifiers is not how Hermione expected to spend her Christmas Eve, let alone frozen in the stands spectating for a sport she didn’t even like. The winds were bad enough as she walked into the stands, but it was even worse when she sat hundreds of feet up into the air. If she didn’t have the good sense to cast layer after layer of warming charms on her clothes, she’d be an icicle in seconds. 

But, Hermione wouldn’t miss this game for the world. Minister for Magic had its perks, especially when your fiancé was a star keeper. So, loathe as she was to freeze to death while watching quidditch, she also was very supportive of the man who waited patiently for her while she climbed the political ladder at the Ministry. The least she could do was support him as he tried to win the Quidditch World Cup. 

And Ireland were so close. 

Cormac swooshed by her and sent a chilly breeze across her face. Her hair whipped in his direction and she grinned and clapped along with the rest of the crowd. Cold or not, she loved watching him fly.

“McLaggen!” The commentator announced and the crowd went spastic. Hermione included. “McLaggen’s on his last run with Ireland this year and he’s searching for a win before ending his career. It all rests on his performance here in Dublin where he’s facing his arch nemesis in the league: Cristiano Lopez.” 

Hermione immediately glared at the opposing keeper. It was a rivalry born early in Cormac’s career. Cristiano grabbed a beater bat and aimed a bludger directly for Cormac’s face. If Hermione hadn’t thought quickly and used magic to change the course of the bludger, Cormac would be living a very different life today. 

Cristiano pumped his fist as the announcer called out his name as well, but the crowd wasn’t quite as loud as they were for Cormac. Hermione grinned to herself. 

The game lasted most of the day. The seekers chased the snitch through the stands and around the grounds until finally Ireland captured it against the setting sun. Cormac’s shouts from across the pitch were music to Hermione’s ears even as the crowd around her went wild. She watched Cristiano curse and storm from the pitch and Hermione couldn’t help but stick out her tongue a little as he left like a petulant child. 

Hermione wasted no time in leaving the stands. As Minister for Magic, she had to be very careful about herself in public. She didn’t want anyone to corner her about policies or the various initiatives at the Ministry – not today. Today was about Cormac and she was determined that he should enjoy his win without being overshadowed by her career. 

When she arrives back at her hotel, she sits in the cozy bar in front of the fire. She’s got two ice cold tumblers of whiskey waiting. The translucent cubes bob in the amber liquid, but do not melt. Stasis charm, a tip she’d learned from Cormac.

“Fancy seeing you here, Miss Granger.” His hand found her shoulder as he rounded on her and Cormac placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before planting himself in the chair opposite her. “You know, I gave up celebrating with the team because I saw you in the stands.” 

“You weren’t supposed to notice me,” Hermione confided softly, but she certainly wasn’t sorry that he did. “If I thought you’d look for me in the crowd, I would have used a glamor or borrowed Harry’s cloak.” 

“You don’t think I want my wife-to-be in the stands, cheering me on?” He smiled at her, and it was perfect. He was a warm man whose very grin could make her heart sing. It’s what finally won her over to him. 

“I didn’t think you’d want the Minister for Magic stealing your thunder.” She leveled a gaze at him; it was a fight they’d had only on occasion, but most notably only a week ago before he left for Dublin and training. 

“And yet, you’ve ordered two whiskeys on the rocks?” He watched her for a few moment, his eyes dancing across her face. She heated up just with his attention, just like they were still young and silly. “Mmm, perhaps you’re not as good a Minister as you think you are. No one quite cared that you were there, did they?” 

She laughed and it only took him a second to follow suit. He reached forward and grabbed his whiskey, swirling the ice around the liquid. Hermione’s eyes focused on the way his lips tightened around the tumbler and his throat constricted as he threw back the entire contents of the glass. She couldn’t help the way her body reacted to him, even now. When his eyes met hers again, she flushed. 

“You have a room here?” He asked her in a low, gravelly voice and she nodded. “Give me your spare key and I’ll meet you up there in five.” 

Her eyes were dark and she was immediately flooded with desire for him. It’d been weeks since she’d seen him, let alone anything else. He watched her walk away and when she glanced back at him before turning the corner to the lifts, he wore a smirk that told her he was planning on a lot more than just catching up on a chat from their time apart. She ran the rest of the way to her room. 

In the room, where she was behind closed doors and not Minister for Magic, she was free to just be Hermione. She tore her wool coat from her body, removed her jumper quickly, and kicked off her shoes so that they landed in opposite ends of the room. She sat on the bed and then stood up and placed her hands on her bare hips. How exactly could one seduce someone who’d seen them naked many, many times? She blew a rogue thatch of thick, brown curls out of her face and then kneeled on the edge of the bed. She was going to place herself in the middle of it and prop her hand on her palm, but the door opened and stopped her movements entirely. 

“Don’t move.” 

She could hear his clothes dropping to the floor, deliberately slow. Every step he took made her shiver. Her arse was on display and Hermione was sure he was taking it in while he could. She swallowed when she felt him just behind her. His hand found the small of her back and he pushed her forward a little. He wasn’t saying anything and it fired up every nerve along her spine as his knee separated her legs. She was expecting his hand to come down on her arse, but it didn’t. 

  
Instead, a cold, sharp sensation stilled her. Hermione took a deep breath and felt something silky but wet and cold against the curve where her thigh and arse met. She hissed and Cormac kissed the skin against her hip, a smirk on face that she could feel despite not being able to see him. The cold sensation traveled toward her inner thigh and she sucked in a breath. 

“Since you enjoyed being so cold up in those stands today, I thought perhaps you’d enjoy…” Cormac slipped the ice higher against her inner thigh, just barely grazing the apex, and she made a noise in the back of her throat. “What do you think, Madam Minister?”

Hermione said nothing as his fingers caressed her. They were cold from holding onto the ice, but still warmer than having it placed directly onto her. She relished the feeling of being so exposed to him, of letting him do to her what he pleased simply because it was his fancy of the evening. She loved him and the mental things he did to her. 

“Minister Granger,” he whispered on her hip before placing a chaste kiss to the heated skin there. “You don’t just want my boring fingers inside of you, do you?”

Cormac rubbed his knuckle against her bundle of nerves and she arched her back at the sensation. Gods, his fingers, the ball of ice in his hand, she didn’t care as long as he never stopped touching her. 

“I can’t read your mind you know, love.” He stood behind her and she could feel the effect her bare arse was having on him, pressed against her skin. His hands were between them, but hadn’t moved again. 

She pushed back against him and just felt his fingers nudge her, but he curled them away and tutted. 

“I want you to be very clear with me.” She could hear the cheeky grin in his voice and she narrowed her eyes. He was very aware how much she hated vocalizing herself in the bedroom, but Merlin did he like to push her out of her comfort zone. 

“God, Cormac,  _ please _ use the ice.” 

Merlin, did he. He put it places she refused to say out loud no matter how much he tried to coax her into saying it. Alternated his hot touch with the unmelting ice against her most sensitive places. He placed the ice on his tongue and did wicked things to her. She bucked against his tongue and cried out his name in panty little whines. 

When he finally entered her and groaned her name, she clenched and could feel the heat of her body contracting against the warmth of his. It was pure heaven and she nearly collapsed onto her face on the bed. 

The ice found its way to her spine, up and down it while he slammed into her. She cried out as he bottomed out inside of her. It took them ages to calm down from the frantic way that they both came, clinging to whatever they could and being so loud that Hermione was sure the rooms around them could hear every pleasured shout. 

Hermione laid her head on his chest and listened to the wild way his heart beat. She drew small patterns on his chest. The ice lay long forgotten back in the glass of whiskey Cormac brought from the bar. She grinned like an idiot and shoved her face into his side. Cormac soothed her hair back from her forehead and coaxed her to look at him with a smile on his face. 

“What?” He asked as he held her tighter. 

“I just can’t believe I let you do that to me,” she told him as she burned red. “You have no shame at all, do you?” 

Cormac laughed. “No. I just get really lucky when it’s an election year.” 

“And I get really lucky when Ireland’s in the quidditch cup semifinals.” Hermione kissed him softly on the mouth and sighed in content. “What am I going to do when you stop playing quidditch professionally?” 

“I have a few things in mind,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. 

  
She laughed, but the sound died as he pushed himself on top of her and started round two of their night together in Dublin. 


End file.
